It sat on the counter. Just a key on a keychain with no indication of what it opened. He picked it up and looked closely at it.

As you pull in from a long day out working and just flat-out getting stuff done, you slowly walk to the door and fumble around with the key. I open it from the inside for you and hold my hand out – helping you across the threshold. “Well, hello, stranger… ” you say as you step in.

Just inside the door I have a blanket, folded up and on top of a big picnic basket.

“What’s this,” you ask, “are we going somewhere?”